Work Text:
“Where were you?”
One dark eye stares at the officer in front of him, the other covered by white bandages, framed by brown curls. The kid sits eerily still, perched with his legs pulled up to his chest reminiscent of a cat.
Officer Yuto would describe the brunette’s gaze as empty.
The teen blinks wide, curious eyes at him. “I was off in an alleyway nearby, officer,” he answers plainly.
An innocent response. The kid has bandages all over him, and curls in on himself as if a victim of some kind of trauma.
Yuto writes it down, and is interrupted by the vibrating of his phone. He checks his texts-
“Sorry, kid. Someone else will be in here to question you more.”
Hana watches the kid in front of her. Almost as soon as she sits down, he pushes himself up on his chair, kneeling as he leans his elbows on the table, pressing forward to look upside-down at the form she sets down with his information.
He points at the top line. “You need a name for my file, right?” Wide, dark eyes turn up to her, and he continues without allowing her an answer. “You can write down Ritsu.”
Law. Hana has the strangest feeling that he chose that name as some kind of obscure joke.
“Ritsu,” because her gut is telling her that isn’t his name, sits back down in his chair - though, sit is a strong word. He ends up crouching on the plastic, and she’s reminded of the other officer, Yuto, who described him as catlike.
“Thank you,” she says to him, writing down the name. He says nothing, only watches her write with blank curiosity. She tries not to fidget underneath the stare.
She scans what was written. “You said before you were in an alleyway nearby when the shooting happened.”
“Mhm.”
She looks up at him. “What were you doing?”
Dark eyes glint, though his expression remains unchanged in its blankness. “Dumpster diving.” He says it as if there’s a joke Hana isn’t getting about the words. She turns them over in her head, and can’t find anything suspicious about it. His reason for dumpster diving, maybe, but the act itself… not suspicious.
She writes it down, continuing despite the prickling feeling on her skin. It feels like she’s taking a test and she’s getting all the answers wrong. Her grade is going to come back as an F. “What did you do when the shooting happened?”
Ritsu’s gaze is dark, unmoving on her. He opens his mouth-
Click.
Both heads turn to the door, where another officer stands. “We have a situation. Hana, you’ve been requested.”
Hana glances at the teen. He glances at her, curious. She frowns, but stands up and leaves the room, the door closing behind her on the kid.
Chiyo opens the door, and is immediately met with complaining. Somehow, the brunette teen has a pencil - where did he get that - and he taps the point on the table, the side of one cheek resting in the crook of one elbow. He stares boredly at where the gray pencil tip hits equally dull silver metal. “This isn’t a very efficient interrogation,” he mutters. Tap.
Chiyo ignores him, instead taking his seat across from the kid. Tap. She skims the form, written in two different people’s handwriting. Tap.
“Dumpster diving,” she murmurs under her breath. Tap. She looks up at the kid. Tap. Back down at the paper. Tap. Back up at the kid. “In a suit?” she asks incredulously.
Tap. “Mhm,” he answers listlessly. Chiyo’s brows furrow. “Family’s rich,” he continues flatly. Tap.
Chiyo takes a solid two seconds to realize she should write that down. Tap.
“Uh. Alright.” She doesn’t know why she feels so disoriented. “What were you doing at the time of the shooting?”
Tap. “Mmmmm,” he hums, “packing things up.”
She notes that. Tap. “The things you were diving for?”
Tap. “Sure.”
“Please put down the pencil,” Chiyo finally interrupts, staring at the gray tip. Tap.
Dark eyes flick to her, and the pencil stills. “Why?” he asks, in that same blank, almost flat tone. Curious. Like he’s watching everything from the outside, observing.
“You shouldn’t have it in the first place,” Chiyo says, to avoid saying that it’s downright annoying. “Where did you get it?”
The kid looks back at the pencil. “Your coworker isn’t very perceptive,” he explains.
Chiyo sighs. “Just give me the pencil.”
Surprisingly, he drops the pencil. Chiyo catches it as it rolls and slides it into her pocket, only slightly irritated. “Okay,” she says, focusing back on the paper. “Packing the things up that you were diving for. Did you see anyone involved in the shooting?”
That dark gaze is back on her - except this time, it’s lifeless, empty, a swirling void glittering with a type of dark amusement she doesn’t understand. “Yes.”
Both eyebrows shoot up. “What did they-“
The door opens. The teen sits up abruptly, head turned to the man that enters. “Mori!” he says brightly, formerly blank expression turned into an almost comical depiction of delight, perched catlike on his chair now.
Jesus, Chiyo thinks. Three people, a whole day, and we’ve got virtually nothing on this kid. And now his guardian.
“Is this your guardian?” Chiyo asks tiredly. It’s procedure.
The man - Mori - opens his mouth. “Y-“
“Something like that,” the teen interrupts, grinning as he flicks his gaze back to Chiyo, still amused.
And then back to Mori. “I’ve been here for hours!” he complains, pitched high and drawn-out, head tilting back dramatically against his chair.
“You have,” Mori confirms blandly. “I’ve come to pick you up.”
The kid gives him a flat stare. “ Obviously.” He springs up from his chair, walking over to the older man in the white coat. “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
Chiyo watches as the teen walks past him and out. Mori looks back at her and offers a smile that’s… almost apologetic?
Then he turns and leaves. She hears a fragment of their conversation- “Don’t leave too quickly-“
The door shuts. Chiyo looks down at the paper, and the sparse bits of information that they have on the teen supposedly named Ritsu. Barely anything, given what they’d need to figure out what happened at the shooting.
Huh.